


the modern romantics

by concreteskies



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Magazine AU, tbh this is just like a cheesy 90s rom com with a questionable plot and exposition, there is no real angst in this aside from the usual conflict of lesbian vs emotion, this is going to be a super slow burn bc love is about what? the yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-08-11 08:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concreteskies/pseuds/concreteskies
Summary: Emma Swan is about to start her journalism career at Belle magazine, when she meets Regina Mills, fellow writer and self-declared nemesis. She is as cynical as she is gorgeous, and they hate each other at first sight. Of course they are tasked to write an article on how to find love in NY. As partners.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Bean for letting me yell at you about this at all hours of the day and for helping me beta this fic.

Emma is late. The fact itself isn’t surprising, but she still mentally berates herself for it as she bumps against people left and right in her haste to get to the subway. New York, on a good day, isn’t really made for people in a rush. Today is not a good day. It’s drizzling and people everywhere sport large umbrellas that knock into each other, several of them nearly poking her eye out. She swears multiple times when her bag is knocked off her shoulder or a tourist blocks her path by suddenly coming to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk.

Her subway station finally comes in sight and she mutters a quiet “oh come on,” when she sees how clogged up the entrance is. Even if she tries to push her way through, she doubts she is going to make a train in time for work. 

She winces at the thought of work. It’s her first day. And it’s the first job she actually cares about. To name a few, she has worked as a waitress, bartender, dog sitter, plant waterer, and even had a brief but promising career as a bails bond person.

Her journalism degree has been largely neglected aside from a few freelance pieces here and there. Getting this job at an actual magazine, with actual editors and a readership of over nine million people is a dream come true. A dream she had nearly written off. 

It takes her only one split second to make her decision to abandon the station and instead try her luck hailing a cab. Even if they get stuck in traffic, it’ll probably get her to the location before the subway would and if she loses her job, it will at least be in the comfort of knowing that she tried everything.

She steps towards the curb, eyes scanning the street ahead of her. Someone is honking and tourists with flashy cameras try and get a good a shot of the traffic like it’s some kind of attraction. She is vaguely aware of a woman wrapped in a long black coat stepping up next to her, then her eyes get caught on a spark of yellow and she steps forwards immediately, arm extended.

The woman next to her steps forward only a second later and when the cab comes to a halt, she has the audacity to reach for the handle at the same time Emma does and their hands collide.

“Umm excuse me, this is my cab,” Emma says, only now really looking at the woman. Her hair is perfectly styled and falls just above her shoulders. Her lips are red and bold and since they are both still holding on to the handle, their faces are in close enough proximity to make her feel ever so slightly dizzy for a second.

“Your cab?” The woman replies, now looking right back at Emma, eyes sparkling with outrage.

“I clearly flagged it down.”

“I reached it first.”

“That’s not how it works.” 

“I think that’s exactly how it works,” the woman responds and pulls the door open with enough force to knock Emma back briefly.

“Listen, lady, I need to get to work, okay so just hail another cab or- “she gives her a quick onceover, taking in the expensive heels and wool coat, “call your driver or whatever.”

“As baffling as it may be to you, I also have places to be. So why don’t you find a new cab, since you seem to be so good at it.”

“Excuse me-“ Emma huffs out. 

She is about to turn this into a scene when the driver pipes up. “Not to interrupt,” he says, voice unnecessarily cheerful, “but I can take both of you.”

Emma looks at the other woman briefly, just in time to see her roll her eyes.

“Fine.” Emma says at the same time as she says, “That won’t be necessary.”

They turn to each other with matching glares, both still holding on to the door handle like this is some kind of bizarre staring contest. Emma outlasts her.

“Fine,” the woman bites out, “as long as you drop me off first.”

“Of course, your majesty.” Emma says sarcastically. She lets go of her grip onto the handle and allows her to get in first. When she doesn’t move further, Emma ushers her to slide through so that she can get in after her.

“I don’t slide, dear,” the woman says and Emma stares at her for a moment, sure that she must be joking. When she finds her to be deadly serious, she merely sighs in exasperation and quickly rounds the car to get in on the other side.

“Great, where am I taking you?” the driver asks, still holding on to his cheery tone.

“Anderson Tower,” the woman says. Emma blinks several times. Of course. Of course, the irritating woman with a permanent snarl on her face is headed to the same location. That’s just how this day is going to be apparently. It’s New York for god’s sake. Chance encounters like this aren’t supposed to happen here.

It’s a large building though, she reasons with herself. Belle magazine isn’t the only company situated in Anderson Tower, Belle isn’t even the only magazine being produced in the building. Judging by her attire and general appearance the woman probably works for a company like Stein Publishers. She might even be an in-house attorney or finance manager for all she knows.

When Emma doesn’t speak up to add her address, both the driver and the woman turn to her, one of them with a friendly grin, the other with a pointed glare.

“Umm,” Emma stammers. Brilliant. She can’t wait to be a writer. “Yes, me too.”The woman raises her brow but doesn’t comment further, so Emma needlessly provides, “I work at Belle.”

That gets her attention.

“_ You _ work at Belle?”

“Yes,” Emma bites out in response, raising her eyebrows in quiet challenge. Emma is about to ask her what her fucking problem is when the woman leans forwards to give their driver a stern look.

“Are we leaving any time soon or should I just walk?” There is something about her tone that makes Emma wince ever so slightly. It seems to have the same effect on the driver, because his cheery expression is wiped from his face for the first time, as he quickly nods his assent and starts to rejoin traffic.

They sit in silence for a couple seconds. The only sound comes from the radio, which is playing a 70s pop anthem that Emma doesn’t recognize. She glances over at the woman next to her, who is staring at her phone. She turns to the clock above the cab’s dashboard. A minute ticks by. 

“So, I’m Emma,” she says, “Emma Swan.” She doesn’t know why she does the weird Bond intro. She doesn’t know why she speaks at all if she is being honest. The other woman barely acknowledges that Emma has spoken though, eyes remaining trained on her phone.

“So you are…?” 

That elicits a sigh and the woman locks her phone before she looks up at her. 

“Regina Mills, and we really don’t need to engage in small talk just because we happen to be headed to the same location.”

“Right,” Emma says, imitating her clipped tone and turns forward.

She can feel Regina’s eyes on her, however, feels the way she takes in her attire and after a couple seconds she turns back to her with a glare.

“What?”

“Your blouse isn’t done up properly,” Regina says and at Emma’s frown, she points to the item in question.

Emma glances down at herself. She is wearing her red leather jacket and a white blouse. She realizes, however, that in her haste to get out of the house in the morning she buttoned up the blouse with one button odd, leaving the fabric slightly ajar at the bottom. She can understand how Regina would be puzzled at her involvement in a women’s magazine known for its lavish fashion department.

“Oh crap,” she mutters and begins to try and make her appearance more acceptable.

Regina raises her eyebrows in agreement and Emma is sure she imagines the small smirk on Regina’s lips when she gives her a dirty look in return.

“So, you work at Belle then, Miss Swan?” Regina asks.

“I thought you didn’t want to- “and she uses her index fingers to mimic quotation marks on the next words, “engage in small talk.”Regina purses her lips and is about to turn away again when Emma replies, “I’m a writer. It’s my first day.”

Regina merely raises an eyebrow and gives her attire another once over that makes Emma flush in an altogether uncomfortable way. Then she turns away and that’s that apparently.

They stay silent for the remainder of the journey and Emma busies herself by alternating between staring at the meter going up and at the scented tree dangling from side to side.

It seems like hours before they finally make it to Anderson Tower. Emma sees people filter through the large front doors, all long trench coats and clicking heels. She swallows. 

The cab pulls over and comes to a halt.

“I’ll get it,” Regina says, already reaching for her purse.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’ll pay my share.” 

“There is no need for that.”

“Oh yes, there is. I’m not gonna leave this cab owing you something.”

“You wouldn’t be owing me anything. Just let me pay for the cab,” Regina says turning to Emma with irritation written all over her face.

“I’ll pay my share,” Emma insists with just as much irritation. For a second, they seem to be at an impasse, both of them glowering and unwilling to move.

Regina finally rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she bites out. She shoves a couple bills towards the driver. “You get the rest.”

Emma smiles and hands him the other half of the money.

“Are you always this difficult?” Regina asks they are getting out on their respective sides of the cab.

“Only when the occasion calls for it,” Emma quips, smiling at her with a sugary sweet smile that is fake enough to rival her customer smile. Regina merely sighs like this five-minute cab ride has exhausted her beyond belief and turns away to enter the building. She doesn’t turn back to exchange any niceties, like a _ goodbye, _ or a _ good luck during your first day, Miss Swan. _

“Well, see you I guess,” Emma calls behind her.

Regina rushes off though, heels clicking against the pavement until she disappears behind the turnstile.

* * *

She doesn’t expect to see her again quite so soon though. Quite so soon, in this instance, means ten minutes later while following a woman called Mary Margaret to her desk and finding Regina already seated at the other end of the writer’s bullpen. Regina lifts her head as Mary Margaret leads Emma over to her desk and for a second their eyes meet. Regina curls her lips at the sight of her, but shows no other sign of recognition, but instead turns back to a computer with an almost bored expression. It bothers Emma more than it should. She barely pays attention to Mary Margaret, who has taken a seat at the table opposite hers and is still explaining something about the schedule and how to use the office printer. It must have become apparent to the other woman as well, because she follows Emma’s line of sight and then turns to her with an almost sympathetic expression.

“So. you’ve met Regina?” She asks it like there is a support group for cases like this.

“Yeah, we shared a cab earlier,” Emma says. “She’s a writer?”

“Yeah, She’s one of our best.”

“Oh,” Emma replies and nods. It’s not like Regina could have told her that in the cab. It’s not like she could have shown her the way in. This is all completely fine. Mary Margaret laughs a little at the expression on her face. “What?”

“Nothing, you just really look like a person who has just met Regina for the first time.”

Emma frowns at the statement and Mary Margaret laughs.

“It’s that look like you’ve just been hit in the face, mixed with a hint of fear.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Emma protests.

“Okay.”

“I’m not,” Emma insists, “she just… irritates me.”

“She has that effect on people,” Mary Margaret muses. “She is still one of our best writers and the only one to occasionally go against Gold.” She shrugs and grabs the bag she‘d left slung across the back of her chair.

“Right I’m going to get a coffee, there is a staff meeting in 15, I’ll come pick you up.”

* * *

The conference room is rather spacious, with glass panels on one side that open to the bullpen and a windowfront that overlooks the skyline of New York. A long table features in the center. Emma has never been to a meeting like this, unless it was to serve coffee while she was still an intern. Now she gets a chair and a stack of papers.

The room fills up quickly and Emma briefly registers Regina entering the room and taking a seat at the other end of the table. She doesn’t spare Emma a single glance, merely opens her computer and starts typing away.

Mr. Gold arrives late. A mousy woman trails behind him, carrying papers, a bottle of water, and an expression of high stress that Emma can sympathize with. Emma has heard much about the elusive Mr. Gold, editor in chief for Belle magazine. He is as feared as he is admired and with one look at him, Emma understands why. The air seems to cool around him, and he seems to almost oscillate with it. His assistant keeps glancing at him nervously and the atmosphere in the entire room shifts as every head turns his way and all conversation falls silent.

He doesn’t waste any time on introductions but dives straight into the agenda. It’s roughly at issue 12 that Emma begins to zone off. The current discussion has to do with finances and Emma slowly begins to scan the room instead, allowing her eyes to take in each one of her colleagues. She makes her way to the other end of the table and Regina chooses the exact moment Emma’s eyes land on her to look up as well. Their eyes meet for a brief second. Irritation flits through Regina’s eyes before she focuses back on her laptop and Emma looks back down at her notepad. 

“Let’s turn to issue 15,” Gold says. Emma shuffles through the papers in front of her and turns her attention back to him. According to the schedule, they’re about to discuss the next issues and the specifics of certain articles and Emma sits up a little straighter at it.

“The women’s center is holding their annual fundraiser. There is an art installation that goes along with it, which is supposed to give a voice to marginalized communities. I want the whole event covered.” He turns to Emma with his last words. “Miss Swan, this seems like the perfect article for you to make your debut.” Emma begins to nod her assent, when Regina’s voice cuts through the room. “Excuse me?” Even before Emma turns to her, she can imagine the furrowed brows, the glare in her eyes. She isn’t disappointed. Regina looks absolutely livid.

“Yes, Miss Mills?” Gold says and sounds almost lazy. Emma has to stifle a smile at the way Regina’s eyes seem to narrow at it.

“This is my article.”

Oh.

“I don’t remember approving an article for you.”

“I told you about the center. I have been researching it for months.”

“Well, it was a good find and I’m sure Miss Swan will do it justice.” He turns back to Emma at this as if waiting for her agreement. She clears her throat before speaking. “I really don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, if Miss Mills- “

“Miss Swan,” he interrupts her and the look in his eyes turns almost gleeful. He is enjoying this. Whatever this is. “I was under the impression that you came here to make it as a journalist, not to make friends?”

“I am, but- “

“Well, then it’s settled, Miss Swan will write the article.” Emma isn’t sure that they settled anything, but nods anyway, barely meeting his eyes. “I’m sure she’ll do a wonderful job,” he adds with a hard look at Regina. Regina, who is still staring at him with open hostility. She opens her mouth and for a second Emma thinks she is going to shout at him, but he beats her to it, with a careless “that’s all.”

Regina’s mouth clamps shut again, so hard that Emma thinks it must draw blood. Then her eyes find Emma’s. And Emma thinks _ fuck. _

* * *

Regina is fuming. She hacks away at her computer and even from her position across the room Emma can hear the aggressive clacking of the keys. People seem to avoid going near the vicinity of her desk, and the woman sat opposite Regina keeps leaving the room to get coffee and looks about one second away from a nervous breakdown.

Emma keeps glancing at her. She tries to work on her article, but she just stares at the blank document until her eyes go blurry and she has to look away. Eventually her eyes always travel back to Regina.

“Don’t do it,” Mary Margaret says from the desk opposite Emma’s. Emma turns her head to look at the woman, who is eyeing her with a knowing gaze.

“What?”

“Don’t go over there.”

“I should talk to her.”

“It won’t do you any good. Trust me, I know.“ She trails off a little and Emma wonders what kind of history lies behind her unease.

“Fine,” Emma agrees. And to her credit she does try to listen to Mary Margaret. She stays at her desk for all of five minutes. But the blank page of her document seems to be taunting her and she is still aware of Regina attacking her keyboard in the periphery of her vision and eventually, she gets up.

“I’m gonna talk to her,” she says, partly to Mary Margaret, partly to herself. She can hear her new friend sigh as she makes her way across the room. Several people turn to watch her step up to Regina’s desk. One woman shakes her head almost imperceptibly. She wonders whether this has been a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn around now.

“Hi,” she says, cringing a little at the hesitance in her voice. For a second, she thinks Regina isn’t going to react, but then she spins her chair so that she is facing her. No, she’s not facing her, she is glaring at her.

“What do you want, Ms. Swan?” The_ you _ sounds like an insult and Emma realizes that this has most definitely been a mistake.

“I just wanted to apologize for- “

“For stealing my article.” Regina interrupts her. Her voice is something sharp and jabbing and Emma almost flinches at how cold it sounds.

“I mean I didn’t exactly steal it.” Emma realizes that this is the wrong thing to say the exact second the words leave her mouth. Regina’s glare turns to stone. “I mean I wasn’t really given an option here.” That makes it worse. Definitely worse.

“You should have said no.”

“I couldn’t.”

“It’s one syllable, I’m sure you would have managed.”

Emma sighs. She considers turning around and returning to her desk, but she doesn’t want to give Regina the satisfaction of having put her to flight.

“Listen,” she says and it comes out much sharper than she intended. “I just wanted to apologize.”

“Are you going to tell Gold you won’t take the article?”

“I can’t,“ Emma bites out through clenched teeth.

“Then I guess I don’t care.”

“God, why do you have to be so difficult?”

“You stole my article,” Regina nearly shouts at her and anyone who hadn’t been paying attention before turns in their chairs now to watch them: Regina sitting on her chair with her legs crossed, Emma standing in front of her with her shoulders squared as if bracing for a fight. It’s her first day and she is already causing a scene in the office. For a second, she considers staying here, considers shouting back and escalating the fight. But she just sighs and mutters a quiet, “this was a mistake.”

“On that we can agree,” Regina bites back and turns her chair so that she is facing her computer again. The woman opposite her shrinks at the face she is making.

“For what it’s worth I am sorry,” Emma says and turns to leave before Regina can reply.

When she returns to her table, she also returns to Mary Margaret’s sympathetic gaze and an outreached bowl of chocolates. She takes one and bites down on it so hard that she cuts her tongue. She tastes metal and sugar and thinks about Regina.

* * *

The next few weeks pass in a blur. Emma spends most of her time researching, writing, then rewriting the article. Any remaining time she has, she spends fighting Regina. And boy do they ever fight.

It begins with small conflicts, like Regina not holding the elevator door and watching with a cold smile as it shuts right in front of Emma’s nose.

It begins with silent glares across the writer’s bullpen. She knows whenever Regina is glaring at her, because Mary Margaret, who sits in her line of sight, ducks with it every single time.

_ Don’t you have anything better to do than glare at me? You’re scaring Mary Margaret. xx _

She knows it’s childish, using the office e-mail to call her out on it, but when she glances over at her and finds Regina scowling at her computer, it’s worth it. Emma smiles.

_ Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me via e-mail? _The reply is almost instant.

_ Nope. _ Emma replies back and adds an obnoxious amount of heart emojis. That should annoy her for a couple of minutes.

It also begins with quiet scowls whenever they enter the kitchen at the same time. With narrowed eyes and clenched hands and people filtering out of the room whenever the two of them are present.

By the end of Emma’s first month, she has written an article she actually cares about and has made what she calls a rival on a good day and nemesis on a bad. She knows she is being overly dramatic about it and even if she didn’t, Mary Margaret tells her so almost every day, but it’s… fun. It’s fun to poke at her and have her hiss insults at her. It’s fun to see that little line appear on her forehead whenever she opens her e-mail and finds another message from Emma. And she would never openly admit to it, but some days she thinks she enjoys fighting with Regina.

* * *

Emma only really feels like she begins to settle in at Belle after her first article is published. The response from the readers is positive, her fellow writers finally acknowledge her and when she isn’t wondering whether Regina has read the article, she actually feels pretty proud of herself.

It’s been hard work though, researching, trying to get it right and the article that followed hit her without remorse and remains unfinished even though it needs to be handed in in a couple of hours, so when she bumps into Mary Margaret in the office kitchen and she asks her to join her for a coffee, Emma says, “sure that sounds great.”

They’ve been sitting there for a couple of minutes when a brunette with red highlights storms into the kitchen and dramatically flings herself onto the chair next to Mary Margaret’s. Emma recognizes her to be Ruby Lucas, who is known for her sex positive articles and generally life-loving attitude.

“You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” she says to Mary and leans back in the chair as if trying to catch her breath. Mary Margaret smiles at her and from the way she also sits back in her chair, Emma can tell that this is a regular occurrence. “So I was interviewing this sexologist for an article and she was talking about yoni eggs and I though, hey here’s something I haven’t tried, so I ordered one and was using it last night and I got it stuck in my vagina so-“ this is when she finally takes notice of Emma who is sitting opposite her and offers her a grin.

“Oh hi.”

“Hi,” Emma chuckles.

“This might be a bit TMI, so I’ll just tell you later,” she laughs, addressing the last part at Mary Margaret before returning her attention to Emma. “Hey, aren’t you the girl who stole Regina’s article?”

Emma grimaces at the accusation even though Ruby is still grinning and seems more fascinated by her than angry. “I didn’t steal it.”

“I’m not sure Regina would agree there,” she says with a wink that Emma can’t interpret. “Haven’t you been fighting for weeks now?”

Emma shrugs at the question and thinks back two days ago when Regina called her an incompetent idiot in this very kitchen.

“Though I must say you have braved her like nobody else. Normally people just cower when she goes all Evil Queen.”

“She’s not _ that _scary,” Emma argues, before latching on to the latter part of the statement. “You call her the Evil Queen?”

“Oh yeah,” Ruby chuckles, “it’s kind of an office joke. It started after she wrote a review for a romance novel that absolutely thrashed the genre as a whole. The writer called her the Evil Queen in a tweet and since she is such an absolute blast to work with everybody kind of latched on to it. She’s been refusing to write for the romance column ever since then. It’s like her personal vendetta and for some reason Gold lets her get away with it,” Ruby leans forwards at this, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Rumor has it, even Gold’s afraid of her,” she all but whispers the last words as if she were revealing some kind of twisted secret. Emma likes her immediately. Ruby leans back in her chair, legs stretching out underneath the table.

“I personally don’t think that’s true, but that’s sort of the vibe” she uses her fingers to put exclamation marks around the word, “she exudes, you know.” 

Emma nods. 

“Anyway,” Ruby says then, extending a hand to Emma, “I’m Ruby Lucas, jazzed to meet you.”

* * *

It’s been nearly three months since Emma started at Belle and she thinks that by now she should have probably gotten used to Gold’s moods. Or actually, mood, singular. He is always harsh, sometimes even cruel and he seems to find it almost delightful when his employees fail and he gets to berate them. Today is no exception. All of Emma’s proposals are either “playing it safe” or “not appropriate for the image of the magazine, Miss Swan” and Emma leaves the office with no article and a slight tremor in her hands.

Mary Margaret already eyes her with sympathy from her desk and Emma has to bite back a sigh. Stupid glass-paneled offices. Stupid open concept office building. She doesn’t want a pep talk about how she will find an interesting topic and how Gold hired her for a reason. Sometimes she doubts that he did. Sometimes she wonders whether he played roulette with his applicants and she was the lucky one. Maybe lucky one is a questionable expression as well.

She is still standing in front of his office and Mary Margaret is still looking at her and every second seems to drag out for minutes and Emma decides that she cannot sit down at her desk and listen to Mary Margaret tell her how great she is. She needs to breathe first. And so she starts heading down the hallway that leads off the bullpen. She knows that there are several private offices and storage rooms down here. She briefly thinks about hiding out in the toilets, but one of Gold’s previous comments about clichés lets her walk past them.

She doesn’t make the conscious choice to head for the fashion closet. She’s never entered it before and is only vaguely aware of its existence. She isn’t a fashion writer. But before she knows what she is doing, she opens the door and walks into the room. The door falls shut behind her and for a second she allows her head to rest against it. The closet is massive. She doesn’t know what she expected exactly. Maybe something more akin to an actual closet rather than a room the size of her apartment. It’s filled with shelves and clothing rails and a small lounge in the entrance way with several pink plush stools.

She is about to just sink down on the carpet when she notices that someone else is already in the closet, propped against the wall to Emma’s right with her legs stretched out in front of her.

“Oh perfect,” Emma mutters, “of course you’re here.”

Regina looks about as enthusiastic about it as Emma is feeling. She pushes down her glasses to look at Emma over their rim. Emma always thought only people in movies did this move, but then again Regina is apparently a villain as well. A villain who is wearing dark brown perfectly fitted glasses that Emma has never seen her with before. She tries not to question what the look is doing to her insides. Instead she heads over to one of the stools and sinks down on the carpet in front of it, using it as a back rest.

“What are you doing?” Regina asks.

“Sitting down.”

“You can’t do that.”

Emma sighs, already feeling the by-now-familiar exasperation rise inside her. At least this she knows. At least she can always fight with Regina even if she clearly can’t do her job right.

“Why not?”

“This is my closet.”

“Regina, I’ve had a very long day, can we maybe not do this right now?”

Emma looks over at Regina who is taking off her glasses and clasping them shut, all while never breaking her gaze off Emma. Emma meets her eyes and doesn’t look away. She knows how it infuriates Regina when she doesn’t back off and this time is no exception.

“Yes, it must be so hard writing articles about the most romantic spots in Manhattan by night.” (In hindsight, Emma knows that she wanted Regina to pick this fight and from the way Regina is looking at her, she knows this too. What Emma doesn’t know is why Regina lets her get away with it.)

“That wasn’t-“ Emma stops herself, realizing that the article Regina is referencing wasn’t an article for Belle, but one she wrote years ago when she was doing freelance work. “You googled me?”

Regina shrugs, but she also looks away. Emma could let this go now. Sit here in peace and think about her next article.

“And also, what’s wrong with writing romance? Or are you just trying to enhance your evil queen persona by refusing to write for an entire segment of the magazine?”

Regina looks back up again, the usual steely determination in her eyes. And yes, at least Emma is good at fighting with Regina. 

“I can personally find a more rewarding way to spend my time than to write articles about 5 things that show you he is your true love.”

“Oh yes I remember, because true love is only an overly commercialized notion to make Valentine’s Day sell and any person seeking romance is a fool, trying to find purpose for their meaningless life.”

“You read my article?” Regina asks. The quote stems from one of Regina’s earlier articles at the magazine. And maybe,_ maybe _, Emma had read a couple of those when she was supposed to be doing research at home. Maybe she went through the entire online archive and through the issues of the magazine she still owned to specifically look for Regina’s articles. It was research. She spends most of her days fighting with the woman. At least she can get to know her.

“I may have skimmed it,” she says. “Do you really think all this stuff about love? That it’s bound to fall apart and all we can really do is look out for ourselves?”

Regina takes off her glasses and rubs the point between her eyebrows like she is fighting off an Emma-sized headache right about now.

“I’m sure that in between all the mundane conversations people have on Tinder, some people might think they have found true love or something else worth keeping.”

“Well aren’t you just the modern romantic,” Emma drawls.

“That is until they realize that love and romance are only fleeting, that all their romance novels didn’t prepare them for the real world and that they would have been better off if they had never cared at all.”

“And here we are again,” Emma sighs and slumps back against the stool, allowing her head to sink back against the cushioned surface.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the romantic, Miss Swan.” Regina closes her laptop but keeps watching her with interest.

“I’m not.” Emma turns her head, so she is looking at her again, head still tilted back against the stool. “But I am also not entirely cold-hearted...are you this cynical all the time?”

“Mostly,” Regina replies. Her tone is curt, and Emma is sure she imagines the flicker of something else that flits through her eyes. Something almost like exhaustion.

* * *

They are both called into Gold’s office three weeks later. His assistant doesn’t give any reason for it, merely tells them that he wishes to see them. So now they’re sitting on two terribly uncomfortable chairs that were clearly placed there for the aesthetic, while they are waiting for Gold to arrive. A large clock above the doorway ticks by the seconds and Emma has been tapping her foot along to it the entire time they have been waiting. Regina has glared at her for it every five seconds. Like clockwork.

Gold finally enters with a flourish, tossing his jacket to his poor assistant who only barely manages to catch it. He sits down and turns his chair to face them in one smooth movement.

“As you will be aware, we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of Belle magazine in three months,” Gold says without preamble, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“We want the anniversary edition to be special and we’re planning a big segment for the romance column on how to find love in modern day New York,” he continues. “The age of the internet has drastically changed the way we perceive romance and how to find it and we want an article that reflects upon these changes and serves as a guideline on how to navigate these new challenges and how to still find true love in the digital age.”

Emma doesn’t like where this is headed and she glances over at Regina, whose eyebrows are arched in a way that tells Emma she shares her sentiment. Her lips are thinning with every word Gold says and Emma notices a small scar above her lip for the first time. She misses the next couple sentences Gold is saying until she catches herself and returns her attention to him.

“We want this article to take a center point in the edition and therefore chose to task two of our writers with it.”

Oh no.

“According to statistics of the past few months, both of your articles have had the best traction in our online magazine and the most engagement on social media.”

There is a moment of silence and gold looks just gleeful enough to frighten Emma.

“So, congratulations, you two will be writing the jubilee article for Belle magazine.”

“Excuse me?” Regina asks just as Emma exclaims a less dignified, “what?”

“Which part of this was unclear?”

“I don’t write the romance column,” Regina argues and Emma nods emphatically and contributes a helpful, “she doesn’t.”

“Well, perhaps you will have to make an exception.”

“I can’t work with- “

“Miss Mills, you seem to have mistaken this for a discussion, so let me make it clear, you and Miss Swan _ are _ going to write this article,” he gives them both a hard look and adds a pointed, “as partners.”

Regina opens her mouth again, but Gold holds up his hand and effectively silences her. “I want a proposal by Monday,” he says, then he moves is hand as if shooing them away. “That’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was mostly inspired by The Bold Type. However, the story of this fic will have nothing to do with the show. I didn't originally plan on making Gold editor in chief, bc I wanted it to be a woman. However, the ouat canon didn't really lend a suitable character for that role. I will try to adress the issue of a man as editor in chief in later chapters and it's v important to me.  
Lastly, thank you so much for reading, this is the first fic I have really written for this fandom and I would love to hear what you thought!  
twitter: concreteskies  
tumblr: dancingontiptoes


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Bean for beta-ing this absolute mess, you have my entire heart.

Regina rushes off as soon as they step out of Gold’s office. Her heels sound harsh against the floor of the bullpen, and several writers look up from their screens to watch with expressions ranging from fear to confusion as she weaves through the desks.

Emma is still standing with her back to Gold’s office, startled by Regina’s rushed departure. So much for being partners, she thinks with a hint of bitterness. She considers walking back to her desk and acting like none of this ever happened, like she doesn’t have to work on an article with the one person at this magazine who absolutely hates her, like said woman didn’t just stomp off instead of talking to her. Just as she is about to move, Regina turns around. She has already reached the far end of the bullpen, but even from this distance Emma can tell that her eyes are ablaze, anger practically radiating off her.

“Well come along!”

Several people turn to Emma, varying degrees of pity written all over their faces, and Emma hates them for it. Hates that Gold’s stupid office opens to the bullpen in the first place. Hates Regina for making a scene rather than just asking her to discuss this like a normal person. She thinks about going to her desk and sitting down like a petulant child, refusing to move. She could cross her arms, make Regina come to her for once. Except she knows that Regina would never come, and everything would be much more awkward going forward. So she follows her, scowling at the glimmer of satisfaction in Regina’s eyes all the way.

Regina sets a brisk pace. When Emma finally catches up with her she’s already standing in front of the fashion closet, holding the door open for her, tapping her foot against the floor to illustrate her impatience. Emma walks the remaining meters a bit slower on purpose. It makes Regina’s eye twitch ever so slightly.

“The fashion closet, really?” Emma asks once she has reached her.

“Can you think of a better place?” Regina replies. “I don’t really fancy discussing his while the entire office is gawking at us.” Then she adds after a bit of a pause, “again.”

“Good thing you yelled at me through the entire bullpen then. I bet no one is talking about our meeting with Gold now.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. If you hadn’t been standing by that door like a deer in headlights, we could have avoided all of this.”

Emma is about to open her mouth to retort, when Regina decides that she is done waiting for Emma to enter the room and steps inside herself, pushing the door open behind her so that Emma can catch it and follow her inside.

“You’ll have to drop the article,” Regina says as soon as the door falls shut, standing in the center of the room with one hand on her hip.

“What?”

“I can’t work with you,” Regina replies, lips curled around the words as if the idea itself leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

“Alright listen, this isn’t exactly a dream come true for me either, but if you don’t want to work with me so badly, then drop it yourself, you don’t even care about the romance column.”

“I do not. What I do care about is that the jubilee edition of the magazine isn’t denigrated by some amateur writer, who chronically over-uses exclamation points and has probably never even heard of a dictionary before.”

“Oh please, Regina, I’m well aware that you’re the better writer between the two of us, but at least I’m not some stuck-up bitch who couldn’t breathe an ounce of emotion into an article if her life depended on it.”

They glare at each other for a moment. Emma juts her chin forwards and raises her eyebrows, challenging Regina to a reply.

“I'm writing the article, Miss Swan.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to dig deep and find your team-playing abilities then, because so am I.”

Regina’s eyes narrow and Emma can tell that she is gearing up to say more. She decides that for once, she is going to retain the upper hand and turns back around to the door.

“Now, if you would excuse me, I’m going to do some research on how to find love in this city,” she swings the door open, turning around to Regina while holding the door ajar. “You should probably start by looking up love in the dictionary, since it seems so pertinent to our work; it’ll be close to loathsome which you might be more familiar with.” And with that, she steps outside, pulling the door shut with a bang.

* * *

“I simply cannot believe the nerve of this man, making me write the romance column with this woman of all people,” Regina complains . 

After her impromptu closet meeting with Emma she had taken the elevator to the second floor, where the fashion department resides, led by her closest (and perhaps only) friend, Kathryn Nolan.

Kathryn and Regina go back to high school. Kathryn had been the blonde prom queen and cheerleader type and Regina had been anything but. They’d been friends of convenience at first, bound together by the fact that their parents were rich and mostly horrible. Neither one of them had really expected to end up with a lasting friendship, and yet fourteen years later, Regina still finds herself complaining to Kathryn, and still finds the blonde mostly amused by her behavior, except that now she isn’t smoking cheap cigarettes while she listens to her rants, but drinking organic smoothies with a metal straw.

“First she steals my article, now I have to work with her? On some cliché story about finding love?” Regina is pacing through Kathryn’s office at a quick stride, throwing her hands to accompany her words. The office is rather spacious, filled with dress forms, rails filled with flamboyant clothing and several boards with photography and art works to inspire new collections. It’s cozy, except for the constant clicking of Regina’s heels against the floor and the way her eyes are flashing with anger.

Regina stops her rant briefly to turn to Kathryn and finds her leaning back in her office chair, hands folded over her stomach, grinning at her like this is the best day of her life.

“Could you stop looking so delighted about this and at least pretend you’re on my side,” Regina grumbles.

“I’m always on your side, Regina.” Kathryn smiles. “And I’m not delighted, more cautiously enthusiastic.”

Regina rolls her eyes, which only serves to make Kathryn’s smile widen.

“Oh come on, I’ve been trying to get you back in the game for years now. This article is finally going to achieve that.”

“I don’t want to be  _ back in the game _ .” She uses air marks around the words to highlight how ridiculous they are, but Kathryn’s eyes turn more serious now, almost hesitant as if she were approaching forbidden territory and Regina sighs, knowing what’s coming next.

“Regina-“

“I know Kathryn, it’s been seven years,” she says. She’s heard all of this before. Again and again and again. She sits down on a chair on the other side of Kathryn’s desk, suddenly exhausted. It’s lined with white, fake fur and she’s told Kathryn a million times that it’s tacky, but she stubbornly holds on to it. It’s comfortable, Regina will give her that.

“I’m  _ good _ , Kathryn,” she insists. She was aiming for a confident tone, but it comes out as more of a sigh. She still looks up at her friend with urgent eyes, willing her to just believe it. “I’m happy with where I am now.”

“Are you though? Regina, you are 28 years old, when was the last time you’ve had a night out?”

“I-“ Regina is about to defend herself, but she truly cannot recall having a night out. Not even just a night out: any meeting with friends that wasn’t a meeting for lunch with Kathryn to complain about work. The knowledge of it sits in her chest for a moment, steals her breath. Kathryn’s eyes turn even softer with pity.

“Yes, I thought so,” she says gently.

Regina swallows. Hard. She shakes her head against the memories of a time before all of this. It’s a process she’s become accustomed to, this steeling of herself. She can feel herself straightening at the spine. Then she rolls her eyes at her friend and shakes her head in a way that is meant to convey that this particular line of conversation is over.

“I’m just thinking this could be good for you… She could be good for you,” Kathryn says, pushing still.

“Who?”

It’s Kathryn’s turn to roll her eyes now, before she fixes them on Regina with a stern look. “Emma Swan,” she says.

Regina wrinkles her nose at the mention of her name. “What would be good for me would be someone who understands the importance of a spreadsheet and knows how to use the word  _ ironic _ correctly.” Her voice is rising again, the familiar anger coming to her and she sees Kathryn smile a little with it.

“Stop smiling,” Regina grumbles. Kathryn’s smile only widens. “She really is the most annoying person I have ever come across.” Kathryn nods in a kind of patronizing way, all mock-raised eyebrows, wide eyes and pseudo-understanding look. “She’s brash and childish, constantly gets on my nerves, utterly infuriating and-“

“Fun?” Kathryn has the nerve to ask.

“No?” She protests, outraged by the very idea of it. 

“Well I guess we’ll have to wait and see. You’ll be stuck with her for the next three months,” Kathryn points out, still smiling with so much genuine glee that Regina wants to wipe it off her face.

“Not if I can help it,” she mumbles darkly, an idea already forming in her mind.

* * *

Emma really is not bothered by the fact that Regina hasn’t entered the bullpen since their altercation in the fashion closet. She has not been glancing over at her empty desk like she might appear out of thin air. She has most definitely not been wondering where she is. (No doubt complaining about her somewhere. Maybe staging a formal protest. Who knows? Certainly not Emma, because she hasn’t thought about her at all.)

It has been an hour before Regina finally deigns to return to the bullpen. Emma can hear the telltale clicking of her heels against the floor, notices the slight hush that seems to take over the room at her entry. Mary Margaret seems to almost cower behind her computer, typing furiously on her keyboard. Emma sighs and sits up a bit straighter, gearing up for yet another altercation.

“We are doing this article with multiple points of view,” Regina declares without any further preamble as soon as she comes to a halt next to Emma’s desk.

Emma swivels her office chair so that she is facing her.

“What?” she asks with a kind of sugary-sweet smile that makes her cheeks hurt.

Regina, in return, glances at the ceiling for a second as if she is looking for strength during the trying task that is Emma Swan. Then she elaborates, “You work on your part, I work on mine and we piece it together in the end. That way we don’t have to work with each other. Falling in love is a highly personal experience and it will be narrated by two different voices and from two different perspectives, which should make for an interesting and personal article.”

“Well, I’m so glad you consulted me on this as well, I-“

“Do you have actual objections or are you just being your usual difficult self?” Regina interrupts her, impatience shining clearly in her eyes. Emma glares at her in response.

“Multiple narrative works for me,” she bites out.

“Great.” Regina flashes her a tight-lipped and extremely fake smile.

“I actually think I know what we can start with.”

“You’ve done actual research?” Regina arches one eyebrow at her, eyeing her computer like she was half-expecting her to be playing the Sims on it instead of working. (Which she has done before. Just for the record.)

“I‘m a writer Regina, surprising as that may be to you.”

Regina gives her a long look that tells her that she finds the statement highly questionable, but gestures for her to continue.

“Okay, so the article is supposed to be about love in the digital age right? And what’s more digital love than dating apps? A lot of people online swear by them, but there isn’t a real consensus on which one is the best to find actual love, so I thought we could try them all and come up with a conclusion.”

“Dating apps for the romance column?” Regina drawls, “Ground breaking.”

“Well, do you have a better idea, or would you like to disappear for another half an hour to complain about me.” Emma raises both eyebrows in challenge. Regina glares at her, but clearly cannot come up with anything on the spot, because she frowns and presses her lips together, before she bites out an angry, “fine.”

“It really pains you to agree with me, huh?” Emma grins.

“It’s like acid, Miss Swan.” 

* * *

Since Gold only gave them four days between their meeting and the expected proposal, the next couple days pass in a rush of dates, text messages and an abundance of pickup lines, most, if not all of them, either cringey or thoroughly unoriginal.

Emma and Regina don’t talk during their four-day-dating-extravaganza, except for an occasional e-mail to confirm which apps they’ve tested. There are the glances though. Emma quite often finds that her eyes stray to Regina’s desk to see how she is doing. More often than not she finds her scowling at her phone or computer, lips pressed together tightly and the little vein on her forehead protruding so that even Emma can see it from the other end of the room. On Thursday, Regina seems to be so outraged by something that she throws her phone into a drawer and jams it shut with so much force that the woman opposite her startles quite considerably. Emma has to stifle a laugh. At least she can always comfort herself with the fact that however much she dislikes this article, Regina dislikes it more.

_ What did your drawer ever do to you? _ she sends, before she can question it.

_ Mind your own business. _

_ If it’s about the article, it _ ** _ is_ ** _ my business _ . she sends, complete with an emoji of the sassy lady holding her hand up in a shrug. She knows the emojis get to Regina. And sure enough, Regina’s frown deepens, and she turns away from her computer to glare at Emma directly across the bullpen. Emma merely smiles back.

_ No, it is not. Also stop watching me. _

Emma merely sends her the eye emoji in response. Regina doesn’t reply back.

Despite their silence on the matter, the news of the article quickly makes the rounds among the writers. While no one dares approach Regina about the matter, Emma is subject to frequent interrogations. What’s it like working with the Evil Queen? How far are they on the article? Does she need help? Did Regina yell at Gold about it? Did he cry?

Emma mostly doesn’t dignify them with a response, merely shrugs and tells them the bare minimum. Not that there is much to tell. She isn’t really working with Regina. Their so-called partnership is marked by silence and the passive aggressive emails they keep sending each other. There is no real progress on the article, because both of them are just trying to go on as many dates as possible within four days so that they have something to write about on their respective ends of the proposal due Monday. There really isn’t much to tell, since the entire bullpen is already aware of the open hostility between them, and so Emma remains silent.

On Friday, however, Ruby corners her in the kitchen while she is getting her fifth coffee of the day. (Who knew online dating could be so exhausting?)

“So about that article you and Regina are writing?” she starts and then follows it up with a number of questions, regarding the three-month limit for the article and how many dates they are going to go on. Finally, she ends up telling Emma that there is an office pool going on whether Emma or Regina is going to land more dates during the three months they’ll take to write the article.

“Who’s in the lead?” Emma asks once Ruby is finished, trying not to think too much about how outrageous the pool truly is. “It has to be me?”

“Well,” Ruby says, wringing her hands rather awkwardly, “Regina isn’t doing too badly actually.”

“What?” Emma exclaims, suddenly even more outraged, however for a completely different reason. “She is completely stuck-up, unapproachable and well… awful.”

“Yeah but she’s kinda hot,” Ruby replies with a shrug.

Emma doesn’t argue, merely rolls her eyes, grabs her cup, and leaves the kitchen. She arranges two dates as soon as she reaches her desk.

The four days pass quickly and by the time it’s Sunday evening, they’ve both written their end of the proposal, pieced it together with minimal contact and submitted it to Gold. They are called into a meeting Monday morning.

And Gold is livid.

* * *

“Maybe my instructions should have been clearer,” Gold very nearly yells. He is standing behind his desk, holding the proposal in his hands like he is physically repulsed by it. “I guess I shouldn’t have made the mistake of thinking that two of my best writers would be able to follow basic instructions.”

Emma shifts uncomfortably on her chair at the tirade. Her eyes flicker over to Regina, who is sitting in her chair with her shoulders squared. Emma can’t tell whether she looks more uneasy or furious, but something about the way she is clenching her hands in her lap makes her lean towards the latter. She is clutching them so tightly her knuckles go white.

“So since there must have been some ambiguity, or else I truly cannot explain this,” Gold continues, slapping the printed proposal on his desk with a resounding smack. “I will repeat myself: I do need this article to be written by both of you,” he enunciates the words carefully as if speaking to children. It is patronizing, though not necessarily unwarranted, and Emma lowers her head at the knowledge of it. He looks at both of them individually for a moment, eyes hard. Emma notices that Regina chooses this moment to jut her chin forwards, opening her mouth as if she is going to dare to contradict him, maybe argue that it will be written by the two of them. Gold must anticipate the same, because he raises his index finger and beats her to it. “Together.”

Regina’s mouth clamps shut then. Emma can hear the way she grits her teeth.

They sit in silence for a moment, an uncomfortable silence that has Emma staring at her feet on the floor. She is wearing black boots and there’s a speck of dirt at the tip of one that suddenly bothers her. She rubs the toe of the other shoe against it like it’s going to make any difference.

“However inconceivable this may be to me,” Gold continues, “our statistics show that you two are our most widely read authors and I want this article to be a reflection of both of your best work, not some multiple narrative nonsense.” He had picked up the proposal again to read from it but is letting it sink to give both of them a stern look. “Whose brilliant idea was that?”

They both look at the floor now, though neither one of them reacts. Gold sighs.

“Well, let’s move on to this glorious story idea then,” he scoffs. “We are scratching all of this.” He throws the proposal back on the desk and rounds the table so that he is standing directly in front of them before he continues speaking. “I want romance, passion, character,” he gains volume with each word. “Not some lousy app review.”

Emma and Regina continue to sit in front of him in silence and so he sighs again and leans back against his desk, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I expect a new proposal by Monday, a full week should be adequate to procure something useful.” He gives them each another stern look. “That’s all.” 

* * *

When they step out of Gold’s office this time, the bullpen seems to scatter. Writers turn to their screens hastily or shuffle their papers to conceal the fact that they just spent the past fifteen minutes watching every miniscule detail of their meeting with Gold. Emma mentally curses whoever came up with glass paneled offices yet again. No doubt the rumor mill is already running hot on whether they were just fired or whether the article was merely taken from them and what that would mean for their office pool. Brilliant.

Regina, to Emma’s surprise, is still standing next to her. She almost expected her to rush right off again, but she’s there, rigid as ever sure, but next to her. Out of her periphery, Emma can see the way she is glowering at the room, the way her lips nearly disappear into a thin line of frustration.

“Fashion closet?” Emma asks, turning just in time to see Regina’s curt nod, before she storms off in front of her again. Well, at least this time it was Emma’s idea.

Emma follows her brisk pace and they end up in the closet again, door swinging shut behind them with so much force one of the closing rails standing next to the entrance reverberates with it.

“This is your fault,” Regina all but hisses, turning around as soon as they’ve entered the room. Her eyes are ablaze, and Emma has to keep herself from taking a step back from her.

“Excuse me?” she challenges instead.

“An app rating, really?” Regina scoffs and the derisiveness of it makes something hot and defensive flare up inside Emma’s chest.

“Maybe we could have discussed the idea further if you hadn’t been so hell-bent on doing this article without me.”

“Well, clearly I was right not to since-“

“God, why does every conversation with you always have to be such a struggle,” Emma doesn’t let her finish. Her voice is raised, close to shouting. Regina’s mouth clamps shut at the ferocity in it. Good. She can’t believe she is screaming in the fashion closet of a high-end fashion magazine. It’s 10am on a Monday. Talk about wrong turns.

There is silence for a moment, hard and heavy between them. Emma sighs, runs a hand through her hair, and moves towards one of the pink plush stools in the entrance area. She sinks down in front of it, crossing her legs underneath her.

“Can we maybe do this whole blame casting thing another time and just… come up with a plan for this stupid article and get on with it?”

She looks up at Regina, who is still standing in the center of the room. She’s illuminated by the fluorescent lights that run parallel all the way along to the back of the closet. From Emma’s position on the floor, it makes her hair seem lighter, her features softer somehow. Emma knows it’s only a trick of the light, but she leans back against the stool anyway, exhales.

“Fine,” Regina bites out, betraying the softness of the light with her clipped tone. She looks around the room, conscious of the fact that she is the only one standing now, and moves over to the wall next to Emma, sliding down so that she is sitting with her back up against it. She stretches her legs out in front of her and crosses them at the ankles, toes still pointed and back rigid, even in this position.

“Okay so what did you have so far?” Emma asks. Regina looks at her for a second, then reaches for her laptop in her bag and hands it to her with a document already open. It is titled  _ romance rubbish _ . Emma smiles a little, but with one glance at Regina’s arched eyebrow, she chooses not to comment on it and instead starts browsing through Regina’s notes. They are detailed, she’ll give her that; even her notes read like a novel. A very boring and long-winded novel, but a novel nonetheless.

“The first five matches went nowhere after only two texts?” Emma grins a little at the information.

“What?” Regina snaps.

“Oh nothing, I just find it hard to believe that anyone would not find it delightful to be talking to you.”

“Very funny, Miss Swan.”

Emma scrolls down further, then comes to a sudden halt and starts laughing.

“What now?”

“You made a rating sheet for the dates you went on?”

“It’s called being thorough, you should try it some time.”

“The highest anyone got was a 2/10,” Emma points out.

“I do have standards, Miss Swan,” Regina says haughtily, which only causes Emma’s grin to widen.

“Sure, sure,” Emma placates her, before her eyes land on something new. “Oh actually, I take that Back, here is a showstopping 3/10 for-“ Emma runs her eyes along the column to read the name. “Maria Reynolds.” She can hear the way her voice hitches towards the end, climbing into a high-pitched thing she doesn’t recognize. She knows that this is an overreaction on her end, but she can’t help it. Regina is into women? Has matched with a woman during the past four days. She doesn’t know why this bit of information feels as monumental as it does.

“What now?” Regina asks, clearly catching on to Emma’s strange behavior.

“Nothing, she deflects quickly. “I was just surprised.”

“By what?”

“I just didn’t know you were into women,” Emma says. It sounds lame even to her own ears and Emma groans inwardly. This is perfect. She already hates her, now she is going to think she is a homophobe and feel even more justified.

“Why is that surprising to you?” Regina asks, one eyebrow raised.

“No-“ Emma wrings her hands awkwardly. “I mean I’m into women too. I just didn’t know you-“ It’s getting embarrassing now and so she just shakes her head and shrugs a little, before she finishes her entire blunder with a lame, “anyway,” and turns back to the screen in front of her. She scrolls through it hastily but remains aware of the fact that Regina is smirking at her all the way through.

“So what do you think?” Regina asks when Emma finally looks up.

“Rumple was right, this is really boring,” Emma replies, voice back to normal now. Regina gives her a hard look at the insult of her work and so Emma raises her hands in defense. “Believe me, this pains me to admit as well, it was my idea after all.”

Regina surprises her again, though, because instead of picking another fight, she merely asks, “Rumple?”

“Oh it’s what I’ve been calling Mr. Gold in my head, short for Rumpelstiltskin.” Emma blushes a little at the admission, but Regina smirks and finally relaxes back against the wall a little.

“So what did you have then?” Regina asks.

“Nothing more I guess, a couple failed dates, a couple chats, I think he was right. We just- we need a different approach.”

Regina takes a long breath before she nods her assent.

“So what now then? How else do people find love in this city?” Her question is met with silence. She looks over at Regina who has started to smooth out some imaginary crinkles in her pencil skirt.

“I don’t know,” she sighs after a few seconds have passed.

“Right, I forgot, love is pointless pursuit and all that.” Emma rolls her eyes.

“No, it wasn’t a jab at the romance column, I just… don’t know.” The words hang there between them for a moment, strangely raw and honest, like a shattered glass that nobody knows what to do with. Regina shrugs a little, looking almost small perched against the wall and Emma looks back at the screen in front of her because she cannot stand it.

“Oh,” Emma replies with her usual eloquence and shifts a little on the floor. She uncrosses her legs, stretches them out in front of her, then pulls them back up, crosses them again. It’s uncomfortable. The silence is uncomfortable. Regina’s sudden vulnerability is uncomfortable. She almost wishes she was still yelling at her.

“Well, we don’t have to decide right now,” Regina says instead and when Emma looks over, Regina looks as poised as ever, back straight, jaw set, and Emma is left to wonder whether she imagined the whole thing.

“So what do you propose, we work separately again?”

“No, I guess I’m stuck with you for now,” Regina drawls, but the usual bite is lacking, instead there is a small tilt to her lips, something almost playful and alarmingly like… humor?

“Charming,” Emma replies. She rolls her eyes but can feel the way the corner of her lips tilts upwards as well into a lopsided kind of smile she hadn’t seen coming.

“So, how about we collect ideas and reconvene tomorrow to discuss them and… whatever we’ll decide, we do it together.”

“Okay,” Emma agrees. She smirks when she looks at Regina and adds, “partner.”

She hears Regina’s exasperated sigh and smiles. It’ll be okay.

* * *

Regina isn’t entirely sure that she approves of the fact that the closet has become their default meeting place by now. She isn’t entirely sure when it happened either, but when Emma sent her an e-mail this morning, reading  _ Meeting at 3? _ she didn’t have to ask where.

Now Emma is sitting, no slouching, against one of those horrendous pink stools scattered across the entrance way. She has her laptop open in her lap and is taking sips of hot chocolate from a cup, while reading through the list of ideas Regina had sent her the previous evening. Emma herself had sent hers five minutes before their agreed upon meet-up and hadn’t even so much as glanced at Regina’s list yet. Not that Regina had been surprised by the fact. She is skimming Emma’s document now, looking up from her laptop every so often to glance over at Emma, who is reading with a kind of focus that makes her brows furrow and her eyes crinkle. Regina notices that Emma keeps playing with her hair while reading, fiddles with it and twirls it around her fingers. Eventually, she throws it behind her shoulder, where a part of it drapes itself across the pink stool. She looks up from the screen and takes a final sip of hot chocolate before setting the empty cup down beside her and turning to Regina expectantly.

“So, what do you think about mine?” Regina asks.

“I have a question for several of these.”

“Yes?”

“So how high is your dowry?” Emma asks. Her voice remains perfectly level, but Regina can see the hint of mirth in her eyes.

“Very funny, Miss Swan,” Regina replies.

Emma chuckles in response, scrolling through the document on her lap.

“No seriously though going to a dance? That’s your idea of modern romance?”

“I was trying to think of more original ideas,” Regina replies haughtily. “Since I knew all you would contribute to the conversation would be… speed dating?” She reads aloud from Emma’s list. It’s one of the first suggestions and Regina had tried her hardest not to visibly roll her eyes at the screen upon reading it.

“What?” Emma defends, “it’s fun.” Regina gives her a stern look and so she adds, “and effective.”

“Yes, and incredibly unoriginal,” Regina drawls. “Going speed dating is really going to result in an article brimming with the passion and romance Gold asked for.”

“Fine, we don’t have to go speed dating, but we do need to mix it up a little, because god Regina, this article is supposed to be about modern love and your list honestly reads like it’s been written by a sixty-year-old woman.”

“Modern love doesn’t have to mean a loss of chivalry and tradition, plenty of people still meet the old-fashioned way.”

“God sorry, I didn’t realize you were such an expert on romance all of a sudden,” Emma replies, raising her hands from the computer in an exaggerated sign of mock-apology.

“I’m not,” Regina bites out, “but I don’t see why the article can’t feature a couple more conventional ideas as well, we have a broad readership, I’d like to appeal to all of them.” She knows that their readership doesn’t even make the top five of reasons why she is defending her ideas. She knows that number one on that list would be the way Emma is looking at her with her eyebrows raised and that spark in her eyes that is always present whenever she challenges her.

“Sure, but a dance Regina, really? Who are you trying to appeal to? Jane Austen?” Emma laughs. “Though it would be fun,” she muses, looking back at the list on her lap, “seeing you try to seduce someone at the race course.”

Regina merely sighs in response, but Emma suddenly sits up straight, knocking the stool behind her back a little.

“What?” Regina asks, trying her best to sound as tired as she feels.

“What if we try that?” Emma asks. She is looking at Regina now, her hair kind of disheveled from how much she’s been fiddling with it, cheeks rosy and an excitement in her eyes Regina finds hard to follow.

“What? Seduce people at the race course?”

”No, not that, that’s ridiculous.” Emma waves her hand dismissively. “But what if we try some of your weird, old-fashioned-“ Regina glares at her and so she holds up her hands and concedes, “fine  _ original _ approaches and compare them to more modern ones… see which one works best?”

The idea sounds…agreeable. Regina tries not to outwardly show it too much, but the blonde might actually be onto something there. Emma must have noticed that she has Regina’s attention now, because she smiles a little, stupidly proud of herself, and sits up even straighter before she continues. “The article could analyze whether it’s still possible to find love the old-fashioned way, or whether times have changed, and love and romance must adapt.”

She is looking at Regina now, eyes wide and excited and for the first time, Regina notices how green they are, even from a distance they are bright. She looks like she is waiting for Regina to say something and so she clears her throat and nods thoughtfully.

“That…might work actually,” she allows, she is trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible, but Emma’s smile turns smug anyway. Regina rolls her eyes.

“Don’t say it,” Regina warns.

“Say what?”

“Whatever self-indulgent thing you were about to say.”

Emma’s grin only widens and Regina sighs. It’s going to be a long three months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it has been 100 years and I am super sorry about the delay of this chapter. A lot of things happened that slowed down my writing process, but hopefully I will be able to update much more frequently soon! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story, I would rlly love to hear what you thought!


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